


Wait Your Turn

by ohmisterjapan



Series: Power Struggle [2]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 16:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmisterjapan/pseuds/ohmisterjapan
Summary: He undoes his belt buckle, it clinks.“Wecan’t,” she snaps.“Ohwearen’t doing anything,” he says as he pulls his belt out from his jeans and folds it into his left hand, Beth’s eyes dart to it and when he sees this he smiles, “you’vegot to wait your turn.”“What are you doing?” she asks as he reaches his right hand out to her.“Give me your hand,” he gestures, beckoning for her to put her hand in his.“Rio, what are you doing?” she asks but she’s already obeying him – placing her palm face down against his – and he turns her hand over, holding her wrist; slender, alabaster against his complexion, pulling her to stand closer to him.“Thank you.” He says it softly, but the way he meets her eye, and the tone he uses... something inside her twists.





	Wait Your Turn

**Author's Note:**

> *Deleted and posted again because I realised it's not really 'chapters' without a narrative*
> 
> It's clear to me at this point that I cannot write plot. Here is some porn.
> 
> Rio doms and Beth has a whole bunch of feelings about it.

It’s almost close of play when she overhears someone asking for the manager. 

“That’s me, I’m in charge,” she walks over, “What seems to be the problem?”

And at that moment she catches his shadow in her periphery. Sure enough, she turns back over her shoulder and sees him watching her silently. She barely hears her salesperson explaining the problem underneath her own thoughts. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that – yes I remember, you came in yesterday, right? Asking about the programmable key for your teenager?”

“Yeah – I was just… we agreed a deal? And the lady I spoke with said you could hold the car until end of today.”

As the woman is speaking, Rio has walked around the edge of the room so that he’s in Beth’s eyeline, he folds his arms over his chest and shakes his head _no_ to her.

“I know, I know, yes. I’m not sure what to tell you but that _absolutely_ should not have happened,” Beth ignores him. 

“Can you do anything, what about the deal we agreed?” The woman is anxious, clearly upset, and Beth knows what she must look like to her: another salesperson in a blazer. She’s furious that she’s in this position. She doesn’t want to seem stupid, or untrustworthy, _her_ business was supposed to be better than that.

“Well, I’ll have to see what we can do. I can’t promise anything but I’ll do my best.” She smiles cheerily, but she shoots daggers at Rio over the woman’s shoulder. “Look, we’ll take your number and I will _personally_ call you tomorrow and get this smoothed out, okay?”

They have a back and forth, Rio watches, and eventually Beth walks out with the customer, and sends her last employee home. As she locks the door behind them both, she turns and paces towards the office. Rio catches up to her, walks alongside, she doesn't turn her head.

“This is _my business_ ,” she whispers, angrily, “it benefits us both if it has a good reputation, for obvious _and_ multiple reasons”. 

“Obvious _and_ multiple, right,” he gives a sardonic smile.

“You’ve _got_ to stop doing that, moving stock around without telling me about it.” It’s dark outside, she’s late again and has to get back tonight before Dean puts the kids down. _If_ he does. If _Fun Dad_ can handle that. Fucking _Dean_. 

“Oh please, tell me again how I need to work around your big plans,” Rio drawls.

“I don’t have time for this right now,” she stops walking to turn and scold him. 

“Oh you don’t have _time_? Well, shit, sorry darlin’ but schedule’s pretty packed all ‘round, huh?”

She just turns away from him at that, walks into the office. She’s too tired to dig around for cryptic answers from him tonight. 

He follows her into the office and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He’s barely looking at her, not that she needs his eye contact – because _his body_ – but something about it has the power to steady her and right now, without it, she feels uneasy. Outwardly she flusters:

“What are you doing? We can’t _do_ that here.”

“No?” he’s striding towards her, the door still open, not that it matters as all the walls are made of glass. She scans his chest as he pulls off his shirt and discards it, brazenly, and she remembers _he just doesn’t give a shit_. Not about the open door, not about the glass-walled showroom, not about _any_ of this bullshit, really. He just looks _strong_ , his muscles wound tight around his arms and torso. He undoes his belt buckle, it clinks. 

“We _can’t_ ,” she snaps.

“Oh _we_ aren’t doing anything,” he says as he pulls his belt out from his jeans and folds it into his left hand, Beth’s eyes dart to it and when he sees this he smiles, “ _you’ve_ got to wait your turn.” 

“What are you doing?” she asks as he reaches his right hand out to her.

“Give me your hand,” he gestures, beckoning for her to put her hand in his.

“Rio, what are you doing?” she asks but she’s already obeying him – placing her palm face down against his – and he turns her hand over, holding her wrist; slender, alabaster against his complexion, pulling her to stand closer to him. 

“Thank you.” He says it softly, but the way he meets her eye, and the tone he uses, are not unlike the ways Beth has addressed her kids on a day when they’ve been treading the tightrope of her patience but finally do something right and, as she looks up into Rio’s face, she is aware again of _how tall he is_. Something inside her twists. She follows his gaze down as he threads the end of his belt through the buckle and pulls the loop tight, closing it around her wrist. He tugs it a few times in different directions, bringing her arm with it, and looks at her, licks his lips, narrows his eyes into a question that she can’t read.

“I don’t…” she begins but he cuts her off with a shake of his head that says _she doesn’t even know_ what’s she’s talking about and then he pulls at the loose end, lowering himself to crouch on the office floor and pulling her down with him.

She’s unsteady and has to lower herself to her knees using her free hand to guide her, sitting back clumsily on the ground in her oh-so-tight business jeans, her knees bent, stiletto heels digging into the carpet, wishing she did more yoga. He’s crouching in front of her, elbows resting on his knees, one hand holding the loop of his belt and the other stroking his mouth and jaw. He watches her face, frowning slightly, like he’s _deciding_.

She is _so aware_ of the silence in a way that she wasn’t even in the bathroom. This is _his silence_ now, not hers to break. She hasn’t been close to him this undressed before and all at once she’s totally compelled - by the unrestricted view of his tattoos, his _skin_ , his _nakedness_ \- utterly panicked and, despite herself, hungry for the smell and taste of him.

He looks down, away from her again, and she watches the top of his head and the muscles of his neck and shoulders. She becomes aware of their sounds, the only things moving in the whole building; first, her own breath, and then, leather against leather as Rio ties the loose end of his belt to the leg of Beth’s desk. This done, he springs to his feet, looks down, and surveys her. 

For a split second she’s hesitating, unsure of where to look but then he leans down and reaches to unbutton her shirt. She swats him away and he breaks the silence.

“Oh it’s up to you darlin’ but you might want to undo those because otherwise things are going to get going to get… messy,” he raises his eyebrows and shoots her a shit-eating grin.

She’s lost in the things that are happening to her, new things and _new feelings_ flooding her senses and happening faster than she can find words to understand them. She starts to speak, quietly, but then he’s kicking off his jeans and his underwear and he’s _already hard_ and she doesn’t _need_ words then. She understands. She doesn’t even finish her thought. 

“Okay,” she moves to undo her shirt but her left hand is caught, tied, pulling taught on his belt, she grips the leg of her desk with it as a reminder that it’s _not hers_ now and fumbles with the buttons with her one free hand. 

This is happening – _he’s decided_. And she decides to let him make all the decisions. At least for now. He strokes his cock slowly, standing over her, and uses his other hand to push her backwards until she’s lying down and he’s kneeling over her, straddling her belly, stroking himself _in her face_. 

“Okay,” he rewards with that fucking _tone_ again. And once she lets it sink in, it kind of makes her feel like purring. 

Her shirt open, Rio does an upward nod, indicating that her bra is also going to be a problem. She loops her thumb under the shoulder straps one by one and shrugs them off. The cups are a soft, thin lace and she reaches inside them to pull her breasts free, running her thumb over each nipple. On her back like this the weight of her breasts spills towards her shoulders and she pulls her upper arms in, pushing them forward, presented towards him. He _likes this_ , she observes, he’s fixated, and he’s _so hard_ , stroking himself with a steady firm grip, and breathing deeply.

She looks at the head of his cock, gleaming almost, he runs his own thumb over it, spreading his pre-cum, and she licks her lips. He catches her eye and shakes his head, “Nuh,” he says barely moving his lips, his breath heightened. She pouts and he smirks, pushes down on her shoulder with his free hand and leans over her a little more.

“It’s not your turn,” he says it low. 

_It’s a game_ , she thinks, and she lifts her head, tries to reach the tip of him with her mouth. He reacts again, pushes her forcefully down by the shoulder, his thumb just into her throat. 

“Oh you’re gonna have to say it,” he growls, stroking himself faster. 

She looks into his eyes, makes her face soft, but he sees through it.

“Say it.”

“…It’s not my turn.”

“Nah, it’s not your turn yet sweetheart,” but he punctuates it by squeezing her nipples one by one. 

She thinks about the sight of the two of them, on the floor of her office: Rio’s toned naked body straddling her, _dominating her_ , her tits jiggling with the motion of his weight, with the rhythm of him bringing himself off. _Why are there so many windows?_

She takes her free hand to cover herself, almost absentmindedly (because what did she think was going to happen) but he bats her away. She moves her hand to grip his thigh instead, again no. To pinch and tease her own nipples, no. 

“Sit on your hand,” he snaps.

And Beth holds his eye contact as she lifts her hips and slides her hand underneath herself and she’s suddenly so deeply unsatisfied _and then she gets it_. And he sees her get it, and he holds her gaze and nods ever so slightly, and then she nods right back. 

He moans, low.

“It’s not my turn,” she looks him unflinchingly in the eye and licks her lips, hungry. “This one isn’t for me. I don’t get to go. I can’t take all the turns. It’s not about me. It’s you.”

And all these things tumble from her lips and they’re not a binding contract but also she _really does mean them_ right then in that moment, in a base way, deep in her gut, and it’s connected to how she wants to get fucked by him and she’ll wait, do whatever he says, so she can have that.

And he’s so fucking _pleased with her_ that it spills over his face and that unlocks a door inside her. She’s suddenly flooded with feelings that she doesn’t know what to do with: she wants to follow him home and just sit outside his house, she wants to lick and kiss his wounds, she wants to tattoo his name into her skin, she wants to _pant like his fucking puppy_ , and she tells him all of that with her eyes and lets out a small whimper, and that sends him over the edge. He jerks forward, bracing himself on the ground with his left hand as his right works faster on his cock and his cum shoots over her chest and neck in hot, thick strands. 

After he catches his breath he drops onto his left elbow. He’s so close to her, and she can smell him, all sweat and cum. He turns his face into her hair and she feels his breath heavy on her ear. 

After a full minute he pulls himself away and off her. He dresses and she rolls over to loosen his belt from her wrist and then untie it from her desk. She passes it up to him and pulls her bra back on fully.

“You can go, now if you want,” he says, looping his belt back onto his jeans. 

She’s rubbing her wrist, and scoffs “But this is my office”.

He laughs. “Suit yourself. Thought you don't have a lot of time, I was gonna close up for you.”

“Oh,” she feels a bit unsteady, like all the lights just got brighter. “Well okay then.” And then, “Can you pass me a tissue?”

**Author's Note:**

> Is Rio right handed? Resisted the pearl necklace pun.


End file.
